


Sherlock Holmes' Dirty Talk Needs Some Work

by yin_again



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yin_again/pseuds/yin_again
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me what you want.”</p>
<p>John Watson says this during sex. Its use is two-fold. One, he’s a considerate lover and likes to give his partner whatever they desire, and two, dirty talk turns him on.</p>
<p>The first time he has sex with Sherlock Holmes, he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t really get a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes' Dirty Talk Needs Some Work

“Tell me what you want.”

John Watson says this during sex. Its use is two-fold. One, he’s a considerate lover and likes to give his partner whatever they desire, and two, dirty talk turns him on.

The first time he has sex with Sherlock Holmes, he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t really get a chance.

~*~

They were just back from a crime scene and still giggling about the absolutely giggle-worthy memory of Anderson covered head to toe in three-day-old spaghetti bolognaise after the search of a restaurant skip. There wasn’t a damn thing important to the case in there, and John, Sherlock, and Lestrade all knew it. Lestrade had sent them away when Sally started asking questions. They laughed all the way home.

“Oh, god,” John said, trying to catch his breath. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking _god_ , that was funny.”

Sherlock had little control of his breathing either, random giggle fits still breaking away. “I’ll never eat bolognaise again.”

Two seconds later they were kissing. Unplanned, unknown, _un-be-fucking-lievable_ is what it was. John’s back was against the wall and Sherlock was leaning down, his still-gloved hands cupping John’s face.

And _god_ it was good. It was hot and wet and messy, and John moaned when Sherlock’s tongue slipped into his mouth, slow and sweet and knowing. Any thoughts of Sherlock being asexual or quote “married to his work” unquote left John’s head – along with all the rest of his thoughts. 

Sherlock pulled away to breathe, leaned his forehead against John’s and _moaned_ , and John did the only thing he could think to do: he attacked Sherlock’s belt.

One of Sherlock’s hands twisted into the hair at the back of John’s neck, and he used his teeth to pull off the glove on his other hand, spitting it onto the floor. With a lot of struggling, and a few more giggles between gasps, they got their hands into each other’s pants.

Sherlock made a sound when he came. A low, growling, rough sound. A sound that John would give anything to hear again. That deep rumble, along with a flick of Sherlock’s thumb beneath the head of his cock had John making a rough sound of his own as he came.

~*~

The second time they had sex – the next morning, sleepy and warm in Sherlock’s surprisingly neat bed – John mouthed at the lobe of Sherlock’s ear and whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

When Sherlock’s answer included the phrases “mutual masturbation” and “fellatio”, John slid down the bed and gave Sherlock the hottest, nastiest blowjob he knew how to give. He had to – Sherlock’s clinical version of dirty talk was ten seconds away from making him both lose his hard-on and _cry at the utter wrongness_ of the whole thing.

The blowjob reduced Sherlock to wordless moans and gasps, and had the secondary effect of keeping John’s mouth too full to laugh. Or cry.

After, Sherlock sprawled half on and half off John’s chest and muttered half-words until he drifted off to sleep. John petted Sherlock’s hair and sighed in relief.

~*~

John manages to keep himself under control the next few times, but one night, he accidentally lets the words slip out. “Tell me what you want.”

Sherlock’s sixth-form-sex-ed-lecture-style answer includes the phrase “anal penetration”. John freezes and just stares.

“Is that not specific enough?” Sherlock asks. “I’m sure I can be more detailed if needed.”

He’s dead serious.

John decides to be just as direct. “Look,” he says. “Your dirty talk needs some work.”

He knows that he’s not going to hurt Sherlock’s feelings. Not at all; Sherlock will likely welcome the feedback.

Sherlock sits up, rumpled and beautiful. He cups John’s chin in his hand and looks him in the eyes. His voice is a shade deeper than usual – by the time Sherlock comes, it will be deeper still and John will feel every word go straight to his cock.

Sherlock leans in close enough that his breath is hot across John’s ear. “Tell me what you want me to say.”

And - oh, yeah. That’s something John can do. But then, a thought. “Why don’t I _show_ you?”

Sherlock moves back, stopping to kiss John’s cheek gently, and then sprawls onto the bed. “Show me.”

John crawls up the bed, stopping next to Sherlock on his side, his mouth at Sherlock’s neck, and his hand against one pointy, pale hip. He strokes the skin there. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” John says, his own voice roughening. He looks down at his still-tanned hand and the contrast with Sherlock’s skin. He rolls Sherlock over onto his back and rubs his hand over Sherlock’s flat belly, petting the dark line of hair that leads down.

“Have none of your lovers ever asked you what you want?” John’s following a hunch here. Sherlock’s reactions ‘til now indicate that yes – he’s had sex before, but that those encounters weren’t exactly mind-blowing experiences.

“No,” Sherlock says simply, and John leans down to kiss the soft skin above his hand.

John nips at Sherlock’s belly, smiling when he gets a small gasp for his trouble. “I believe it’s safe to say that those days are over, starting now.”

Sherlock takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “I would like it if…”

“No.” John stops him. “You _want_.”

“I _want_ you to kiss me.” Sherlock’s tone is cheeky, and he sounds like he might be starting to have fun.

“Where?” John says.

Sherlock’s voice is deadpan. “Right here in the bedroom, John,” he says.

John moves up to kiss him softly, chastely on the mouth. Sherlock tries to deepen the contact, but John pulls back. “Is that not what you meant?”

Sherlock play-growls at John and tries to pull him back into the kiss. John resists. “Tell me what you want.”

“I told you already,” Sherlock huffs. “Kiss me.”

John gives him another chaste kiss and pulls away, but Sherlock grabs him by the back of the neck to keep him in place. “Harder, John,” Sherlock says. “I,” – and he struggles a moment – “Harder. Kiss me harder. I…I _want_ your tongue in my mouth.”

John smiles against Sherlock’s mouth, but does as he’s bid. “Oh,” Sherlock breathes into his mouth. “I’m starting to see the merit in this.”

They kiss for a while; it’s enough for the moment, and John is feeling pretty damn pleased with himself. Finally, Sherlock tries to draw John’s hand downward to his groin. John resists, kissing along one of Sherlock’s sharper-than-ice cheekbones and nosing into the dark curls at his temple.

Sherlock makes another little sound of frustration. “Will you…”

“Not ‘til you say it,” John says, cutting him off.

“I want you to touch my pe…” John stops Sherlock from saying “penis” by kissing him quickly. “What?” Sherlock says. “I did it right.”

John laughs and kisses him again. “This is dirty talk, not textbook talk. Find a better way.”

Grabbing John’s hand again, he pulls it a little more forcefully downward. “Touch my cock. I want your hand on me.”

John shudders violently, but lets Sherlock move his hand down and wrap it around his cock. He thrusts into John’s fist and uses his own hand to touch John’s balls.

“You like this,” Sherlock says. “It’s not just about what _I_ want, is it?”

“God, yes,” John moans. “Your voice – those words. I’ve wanted…”

“Wanted to hear me say things like ‘touch my cock’?”

John’s response is a quiet moan and a squeeze to the body part in question.

“Yes,” Sherlock hisses. “This seems to be quite mutually agreeable.”

John squeezes him again.

“I really want to suck you.” Sherlock looks to John for approval. When John nods, Sherlock laughs. “You were certain I would use the word ‘fellatio’, weren’t you?”

“Don’t bugger it up now,” John says, but he’s laughing, too. “I knew you’d be a quick study.”

Sherlock arches an eyebrow. “Perhaps if I use another word for ‘intercourse’ you’ll fuck me.”

In answer, John flips Sherlock over onto his belly. “That will do nicely. Lift up.”

When Sherlock lifts his hips, John places a couple of pillows under him, raising Sherlock’s ass a little. “I want you to spread your legs,” John says.

When Sherlock’s long, pale, muscled legs spread for him, he has to swallow hard and look away. The urge to jerk off all over Sherlock’s back is almost overwhelming, but he’s got something else in mind. When he strokes the soft skin on Sherlock’s inner thighs, they spread farther apart.

John thumbs the cleft of Sherlock’s ass, opening him up a little. He’s really not sure if Sherlock has any idea what he’s going to do. Some guys don’t like it – some object on principle.

“I want to rim you,” John says, “and if you even think about saying the technical term...”

Sherlock’s voice is deeper than John’s ever heard it when he says, “Yes. I want you to do it. _Please_.”

John groans. God, he wants to do this to Sherlock. John loves rimming – giving _or_ receiving. Having it done to him is amazing – shivery and hot and dirty. But doing it to someone else…doing it to _Sherlock_. He wants to make Sherlock fall apart, make him lose control and give himself over to John completely. John wants to make Sherlock _his_.

“Oh,” Sherlock says when John’s tongue touches him for the first time. “Dear god, John!”

After a couple of moments, John pulls back. “Lots of nerve endings, very sensitive…”

Sherlock looks back over his shoulder. His face is flushed, his hair is wet with sweat, and his bottom lip is red and swollen from where he’s been biting it. “John! I _do not want_ you to talk. I _want_ you to put your tongue back right now!”

John playfully shoves Sherlock back down. “Fine,” he says. “But I want to hear you. Stop trying to be quiet.”

He needen’t have asked. As soon as he starts tongue-fucking Sherlock, the words and noises come quickly. John’s name, in that low, vibrating voice; words like “yes” and “more” and “want” wash over him. There is no doubt – Sherlock likes it. He fucking loves it. John’s made him wild and shameless. Sherlock shoves himself back onto John’s tongue and says filthy, _filthy_ things, and none of them are clinical _at all_.

Finally, his jaw aching, John pulls away. Sherlock moans, “No,” but John just pets the small of his back soothingly.

“It’s okay, but I want to fuck you. I want to come inside you.” The words have John panting, but they have Sherlock practically _keening_ into the mattress.

“Oh, please. Yes. Now, John. Please fuck me.” Sherlock raises his ass higher in obvious invitation.

John reaches over to the bedside table and gets a condom and lube. When he settles himself again, he mouths along Sherlock’s spine. “What was that?” he says. “Something you want?”

Sherlock arches into the kisses. “I want you to fuck me,” he says in that tone of voice that _kills_ John, the tone he’s addicted to, in love with.

John gets some lube on his fingers and gently slips one fingertip inside. “You’re already wet from my mouth.” He slides the finger in all the way and starts moving it slowly in and out. “But you need more. You need me to open you up for my cock, make room so I can push into you. Is that what you want?”

“John, _please_ ,” Sherlock begs, and it’s the most beautiful thing John’s ever heard. He knows that Sherlock wants this, wants _him_ , _needs_ him.

John can’t hold out much longer; he stretches Sherlock quickly, waiting ‘til three fingers are moving in and out easily before leaving off to put on the condom. Once that’s done, He starts slowly sliding his cock into Sherlock’s ass, inch by inch.

But that’s not what Sherlock wants. Bracing his elbows on the bed, he shoves himself back onto John’s cock. John knows it’s too fast, but he can’t stop himself from grabbing Sherlock’s slim hips and thrusting all the way inside.

The noise Sherlock makes is halfway between a growl and a gasp.

“Wait,” John says. “Try to relax for a minute or you’ll hurt yourself.”

John can feel it along every inch of his cock when Sherlock takes and releases a few deep breaths. He finally feels the tightness of Sherlock’s ass ease a little.

Sherlock must feel it, too, because he shifts experimentally, as if trying to get used to the sensation. He clenches down on John and then releases a couple of times, and John’s control is at the snapping point.

“Please,” John says. “Can I move? I need to move.”

“Yes,” Sherlock says, breathless. “I want you to.”

John starts thrusting slowly, hands on Sherlock’s hips holding him in place. “Like this?” John’s really just kind of being a prick. He’s fully aware that Sherlock likes it – Sherlock is trying desperately to fuck himself harder on John’s cock, and the noises he’s making are a dead giveaway.

“You trying to do all the work?” John asks. Sherlock is pushing back hard enough that John’s going to leave finger-mark bruises on the thin, white skin of his hips. He’s going to kiss and lick and suck those marks later to make them stand out even more and then he’s going to find ways to press on them to make Sherlock gasp. He wants to do it at a crime scene, in front of Lestrade and watch Sherlock’s reaction. He probably _will_ do it at the next crime scene. Now that he knows how responsive Sherlock is, John’s not going to be able to resist.

“John,” Sherlock gasps. He gets enough leverage to make a good attempt at twisting his body from John’s grip. Sherlock succeeds in moving in exactly the right way for John to grind forward and hit Sherlock’s prostate, making Sherlock’s whole body quake.

Sherlock gasps, but he’s still coherent enough to speak. “Let me turn over. I _want_ to turn over. I want to see your face.”

John reluctantly pulls out and sits back on his heels to let Sherlock get onto his back. He’s so fucking beautiful, John thinks, looking down at Sherlock’s flushed face and swollen lips. Sherlock wraps his long legs around John and pulls him in tight. After they kiss hotly, Sherlock gets his hand between them and guides John’s cock into his body, hitching his hips up to get John in deeper.

“Not going to last,” John says, panting. “Not when I can see you like this.”

At that, Sherlock arches up, exposing his long neck. John presses kisses into the sweaty skin, nipping and biting and sucking, putting more of his marks on Sherlock. _His_ marks. _His_ Sherlock. The thought makes shivers run up his spine, and he pulls away to look at Sherlock’s face again.

“Oh,” John says, the familiar fire burning him up. “Sherlock, I’m going to…”

When Sherlock reaches up to cup John’s jaw and say, “I _want_ you to come for me,” and John does.

Once he gets his breath back, John heaves himself off of Sherlock onto his side, quickly taking care of the condom. Sherlock’s cock is flushed and hard, and John tries to reach down to touch.

“No,” Sherlock says, gently moving John’s hand away and replacing it with his own. “I want to come on you. On your belly, on your cock.”

“Please,” John says, and Sherlock’s hand moves faster.

When Sherlock comes, he says non-words, his voice deep and rough, and John can only gasp as hot splashes hit his skin.

They clean up a little, mopping up the worst of the mess with Sherlock’s pajama bottoms. They settle down onto the bed, and Sherlock spoons up behind John, one hand splayed on his hip, their feet tangled together.

John’s almost asleep when he hears Sherlock try to speak. His voice cracks and he has to clear his throat. “John…I…” Sherlock’s voice trails off as he pushes his face against the back of John’s neck.

John smiles sleepily, bringing one hand up to cover the one on his hip. “Is there something you want, Sherlock? Tell me what you want.”

Against John’s neck, Sherlock says, “you, John. Just you.”


End file.
